Monday, May 6, 2013

Little Intro


This is an intro written in prose form meant to describe newby level of a video game. I personally see it as a side-scrolling beat-em-up in my head though with the prose form I've made the little combat in this somewhat more three-dimensional. This was inspired by a conversation and some pixel art of a friend of mine on Facebook I hope she'll enjoy it. I also happen to have named the protagonist after her internet persona...kinda.

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The tunnel beneath the castle grounds was filled with the hollow, constant drumming of the rain pelting the courtyard above and the flowing trickle of collected rainfall making it's way into the tunnel's culverts by way of the storm drains. So it had been for days since the storm had rolled in. A constant monotonous counterpoint of burble and roar, but on this day the unrelenting non-silence was broken by the sounds of voices echoing down a metal pipe, followed shortly by sharp pop and the clattering of one of the metal grates as it fell to the stone. After a few moments a cloak-enveloped figure dropped from the pipe and dashed forward a ways before crouching behind a pillar.

"See, I told you we'd make it without being identified," The figure spoke with a young woman's voice.

"Yes, but you were supposed to get here without being seen. Which would have been a miraculous feat indeed," answered a second voice, this one male, in reply to the cloaked figure's comment. It's source was unseen.

"Oh, hush you, we're in the underground now right? I can take this thing off?" The young woman asked again. The reply would again come from the empty air.

"Yes, from here on out your presence is to be kown. You are to eliminate all opposition by any means necessary. Your magic has been unlocked and I have been authorized to assist you."

"Alright!" The figure exclaimed as it stood flung away the large cloak. Beneath was, indeed, a young woman with pink hair bound into a long ponytail in the back with shortish bangs that framed her face. Her eyes were a strange silvery color and she wore an orange headband. She had a button nose and what looked like a perpetual grin on her face. She was garbed in a block dress vest over an orange shoulderless top with black dress pants and shoes beneath. Around her waist was a utility belt and around her wrists were golden loops. Hanging just above the top of the vest's neckline from a long ribbon looped twice around her neck was a large orange bow with two shortert tails of ribbon hanging down over her vest.. Then the strangest thing happened the center of the bow lifted like an eyelid revealing itself to be a largish blue-black eye. The male voice responded again.

"Of all the forms you wished your familiar to take you chose this one," The bow spoke in the male voice from before.

"Put a sock in it would you? For your information I was hoping the ancestral spirit I called would be the matriarch of my family not you. I've never even heard of you," the young woman replied angrily.

"Is now really the time? The beasts could arrive at any second. We need to make a good impression on the guild," replied the bow.

"Fine, but once we get back you and I are going to have a talk about how we're gonna make this work," The girl said.

She made her way down the underground tunnel, being sure to keep a lookout for enemies following the same way she had accessed the tunnels. The hollow thrum of the rain from above faded as the tunnels led her under the keep. It was here that she encountered her first enemy.

She had just rounded a bend in the passageway and was coming to the stairwell that would take her up into the keep when blurred golden shape darted past her. Suddenly a wind rushed in from all directions and began to whirl around it. The object turned out to be a golden sphere sporting a serpent pattern, the symbol of fell magi.

"Looks like a Dervish spirit," the voice of the bow spoke.

"So I have to take out the device at the center and I'm good to go right?" The girl asked.

"You've only got half the facts as usual, Momoiro," The bow replied, "Destroying the device will release the dervish, then you'll need to kill or capture it yourself."

"I know you only call me that cause of my hair. For the last time it's natural, Astragon!" The girl was fuming now at her ribbon companion.

"It happens to be your name, Momoiro, but we can deal with that later. We've got a Dervish to take care of. You know how to use my abilities? It's tricky to direct some one telepathically and prepare spells at the same time."

"I'll manage fine. Here, I'll show you!" Momoiro Leapt to one side as the Dervish, finally primed, launched its first attack. A blade of wind lashed past the point where she'd stood. She stretched out one hand and suddenly one of the bow's dangling ribbons lashed out elongating and wrapped around a collumn pulling her further away but at the last second she called back the ribbon and spun to land against the structure feet-first and then leaped toward the sphere. This time both ribbons began spiralling around her creating a drill-shape. The golden sphere dodged this assault only taking a glancing blown. Momoiro flipped over in the air and landed on the floor then spun around the two ribbon extended creating rigid shapes like swords held straight out. Both caught the sphere once as she spun then she leaped high in the air lifting both arms above her head and slashed downward with the stiffened ribbons cutting the sphere in half. With a sudden whistling discharge of wind a grey, translucent spirit holding a wicked-looking scythe appeared and charged for her. Momoiro held her arms forward crossed at the forarms and the two ribbons crossed in front of them catching the scythe blade. She pushed the blade back and jabbed forward with one hand both her fist and the end of the ribbon impacting the spirit's stomach and pushing the phantom away.

"Blue flickering sear ghostly foes! Aether Flame!" Momoiro called as she leaped back and performed a throwing action a dart of blue fire rushed through the air and struck the still-reeling Dervish in it's stomach. In seconds the apparition was consumed by the fire and there was a flash of light. A card was lying on the floor in the place where the dervish had stood. Momoiro strode forward and picked up the card. She tucked it in a pouch of her utility belt.

"Hmmm, seems you've got your first new spell," Astragon the ribbon said, "Aren't you going to learn it from the card?"

"Perhaps later. Right now we've got a mission to finish. It seems they werer right about Lady Purpura being a Fell Magi," she responded. Her voice was a bit distant. It was easy to tell this was not news she welcomed.

"Right, of course. We'll be heading up then," Astragon said.

"Right, onward to the next level. I hope there are more things to beat up. Fighting with you is actually pretty cathartic. Between directing your attacks and sorting through spells in my head I've got no room for worrying about things."

~*.The End...For now.*~

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Silent War

Episode One
:::Night Storm:::



    The rain was falling in torrents that seemed to wash away the world around them. Two men stood in the cobble-paved square of an ancient city. Their cloaks heralded their Identity to one another. A man in Crimson gave off an aura that was electrifying. The very air around him seemed to burn with ozone as the raindrops scittered away from him in jumping impulses. Across the square from him stood a shape that seemed to be part of the darkness around them but slightly darker. The rain didn't touch the black cloak either but it didn't flee from him in fear, rather it gently parted around him in a bubble as though the falling rain respected him to much to bother him with its presence. The two figures stood there for some time as though they were transfixed by the torrent surrounding them, or perhaps by each other's presence.

    Why would never be certain, the only thing that was certain was that the Black moved first. A flash of glinting moonlight as the knife slid from his sleeve. A sudden flutter of movement as he darted from his position. A sudden coalescense as the rain formed large spheres of water around him pooled by some invisible hand, and it was not only the water that obeyed that hand. The shadows themselves all seemed to converge on the Crimson even as the Black charged for his throat. The air smelled of rain but beneath it you could also smell blood.

    It wasn't until the last second that the Crimson would make his move. The sound of a splash and a blur of red heralded his ascent the shadows and even the water on the ground reached for him but were cut off by bright flash and a piercing momentary crack of sound. Lightning, but it didn't come from the sky it was wielded by the will of the Crimson. Following the crack a chill pervaded the square. The spheres of water around the Black froze in an instant and fell to the cobbles where they shattered, but shadow could not freeze.

    Black tendrils lashed and gripped the crimson, again a flash and crack of lightning freed him. Their powers were too well matched when shadow is given substance it's weakness is still energy and light. The Crimson dropped to the ground in front of the Black. They're direct struggle began then. They fought hand to hand the Black's knife never completing it's journey to any artery or vein. Meanwhile, all around them in the square their powers collided. Watery shapes formed in the rain only to be hit by sudden bursts of cold to freeze them. Shadow figures rose from the cracks in the pavers only to be struck by bolts of divine wrath. The battle raged on for quite some time. Neither side giving an inch. This was their final confrontation. Neither was willing to simply give up after coming so far and losing so much. One of them would rain victorious this night or neither would. Each was determined to end the struggle under their own terms. In the end neither side returned from that square. Still no one knows what happened, but the next day under the sun lie two cloaks damp with the blood of their former owners, singed as though from a fire, and dusted with ash.

~*.The Year is now 2008.*~

    August of the year 2008 and life in the small town seems to go by as normal. During the week there is little business with the students of the town's University studying and the shops open for business. The place is quiet but with a buzz of background noise that tells you it is alive. You are lucky to see the place on a weekday when it is a comforting image of rural life. On the weekend the buzz goes away. Shops close earlier and the students stay in there dorm rooms or are out of town. Occasionally there is a party, but most notice the weekend in this place for what it is. It is the silence of a town that has died. Each new monday it revives and goes about a short life of activity and pleasantness, but on the weekend the town is silent as the grave. It gives off an eerie feeling to any who chance to pass through. Especially if they do so in the evening or at night.

    In one part of this town, along the main road there are houses at the base of whose yards are walls that drop off to the sidewalk. They aren't tall, only mid-thigh height at most. If you sit on one of those walls and look out across the road, past the houses, and through a gap in the trees beyond that, you see a massive cemetery. Sometimes this sight is peaceful, it encompasses the town well, the living, the places they live, the nature that is barely held away from the town, and the dead resting peacefully nearby. Sometime, especially on the weekends, especially at night, this sight sends a shiver down the spine as you just can't help but think, do the dead really rest in peace?

    Whether or not the spirits of the dead are truly silent it can be said that the war which had come to this small town was silent. It was silent because it had to be hidden. It was silent because that's what the participants wanted. The wish for this silence would be the only one that the would be granted to the participants.

    As was said it was a weekday that it all began, so the hushed background buzz was there, even if no one was nearby you could sense it. It was not raining, the day had been sunny and the night sky was clear of clouds revealing the beautiful star-filled sky that only exists in rural towns where the starlight can still kiss the ground. All the stars, however, were outshined by the moon whose face was full this night. It was one twenty-four am when the sound of shoes clicked on the paving bricks of a miniature square where two pathways met on the campus of the university which called the small town its home.

    "I see it's true. You really are alive," One figure said to the other. This figure wore the clothes of an average student at the university, bluejeans, a t-shirt advertising something, what exactly was obscured by his open black jacket. His skin was slightly tanned but there was no mistaking that he was white. His hair was a light brown color and his eyes were a dark blue.

    "I just so happen to be. To think we'd reincarnate into the same generation and start this whole mess again. I'd be willing to let bygones be bygones and we could go back to the old days before the endless war," This figure was dressed a bit nicer, but not by much. His shirt was a polo rather than a t-shirt, but he wore a ratty old red scarf around his neck. His eyes were a more somber shade, something of a brown and grey mix. His hair too was brown and his skin pale. His body language emphasized a sort of aggravated uncertainty to anyone who might notice it. The only one there to take notice, didn't.

    "You know it can't be like that. The wounds run too deep. Your clans killed mine. Vengeance is the only thing that brought me back to this life and this world. I can't simply ignore those facts," The black jacket turned his side to the red scarf and raised his hands as though ready to fight.

    "Roy Roberts," The red scarf said still slumped a bit with his hands in his pockets, "I figured we should at least share our names if we're going to be trying to kill each other."

    The black jacket flinched for a moment unsure how he was supposed to respond. It only took a short time for him to order his thoughts, however, after which he replied, "Marquis, Jason Marquis."

    "Well, Jason Marquis, I'm sorry the ancient past has to come between a chance for us to be friends," now red scarf adopted a fighting stance of his own. The silence after this remark stretched on for some time. While the two stood amidst this silence strange things began to happen all around them. Shadows swirled around the feet of the black jacket while the air around the red scarf seemed to crackle and hiss. The air in the little courtyard became damp and cold all at once. Seconds stretched into minutes and then the two were moving.

    They met in the center with a muffled crash. Their strange powers beginning the conflict even before they did. Shadow, and lightning; Water, and Ice; These manifested themselves in warring forces all around the center of the struggle, the Black and the Crimson. Still wearing their colors in a different lifetime and, in the case of one, still holding ancient grudges.

    Something was different this night, however, and it wasn't simply the absence of the rain. In the midst of the conflict of the two colors a third appeard. A beam of light fell from on high between the two, separating them. Fire engulfed the Ice and shadow and burned so purely hot that water could not touch it. When lightning attempted to strike it was caught by slender silvery rods that directed it harmlessly into the ground. The two young men sat where they had sprawled on the bricks staring at the figure that had interrupted them. A woman wearing a stunningly white, hooded rain cape over white clothes stood there. She held silver knives in each hand and she took turns staring at both the young men in contempt. Her hair was as dark as the night sky above. Her eyes too seemed black in all the bright light. Her skin was paler than either young man's her words held weight when she finally spoke.

    "I am Teri Jameson. I was once known as Luna Halimuran Argentum. I am also called the Silver Flame. You two are the Crimson Storm and the Black Tide. I've come to end your meaningless war."

    "Meaningless!?" Exclaimed Jason as he scrambled to his feet, "What do you kno-"

    He was cut short as a flash of silver sped past him and solidified. The girl who called herself Teri held one of her knives pointed in his direction, the blade had elongated and now part of it's unrealistic length caressed his neck so closely that a thin line of crimson blood seeped onto its edge.

    "What I know is that both of you died for your grudges in the past. It was fine then because your struggle was the only threat to this world. Now things are different. The Azure Army has come to claim the lives of the immortals and break the balance we once held. You two must stop your squabbling so the immortals can present a united front against that which threatens the world." Her words were spoken quickly and deadpan serious. Jason found himself wondering, but what of my clans? In his heart, however, he knew that, were he to vocalize such a question, Teri's response would be for him to start them anew. On some level he knew what she said was right. So it was duty, and not desire that led him to speak his next words with bravado.

    "I guess you may get your wish, Roy, It seems higher powers have seen fit to make allies of us."

    "I suppose, I'll have to accept that for now, Jason, I hope that by he time it's all over, you'll see that I mean you no harm in this life."

    "Good enough," Teri said as the fires in the courtyard extinguished leaving no trace of their former existence, "You should come with me, we have much to discuss."

Monday, February 4, 2013

A Look to the Future

I feel fully alive for the first in a long time. I've come to some realizations and decisions. First because of a strange desire to marathon the anime Series Death Note I've realized that watching anime seems to fuel my creativity and whet my thought processes. I also noticed that over the past year I've watched dramatically less anime than in any point in several years. In addition I've also written dramatically less than in several years. Therefore my conclusion is that if I hope to regain my former luster for writing I should watch more of the medium that seems to most inspire me. In addition I've decided that as soon as I have paid off the student loans I currently own I will take steps to go back to college. However, unlike last time I'll be going to school with a specific plan in mind... To become a voice actor. I've always been melodramatic and enjoyed putting on a show so this seems like a good idea. In the meantime I'll continue to work on writing. Part of my plans to stretch my literary muscles will be to write for at least one hour each day. I believe I may turn to the story idea generators on the internet to use as exercises. I'm hoping that by feeding my desires and attempting to stretch my creative muscles more I can return to the voracious writer I once was.

As a final note I want to say that I'm going to need more than my own determination to accomplish these goals. I know myself too well. If I try to go on my own I'll get lazy and/or depressed and give up. Even as I sit here writing this blog post I've begun to doubt and back down a bit. I'm going to need the help and support of my family and friends. I'm counting on you guys to keep me assured of my conclusions and help me fool myself into being the man (well manchild) I was, the man who wanted to tell stories more than anything.

Respect, Honor, and Power to you all.

Archknight Jason aka NuraMike aka Justin Michael Thompson

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Meaningless Prattling Philosophy

 999 is a thought provoking game. There's a segment where they talk about cultures believing either the head or the heart to be the place where a person's identity resides. I started to think, what if they both held half and came up with this little speech by picturing it as a scene in my head the writing it down. I imagine it being read by Sean Connery, but that's just me. I thought I'd share it with you because it resonates with me. It's something I pulled straight out of my ass yet it has a 'right' sort of feeling. The old 'bullshit powers' activating again? Or is there something deeper here? You be the judge.

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It doesn't matter if your body is all patches. You don't reside in the whole of your body, you reside here, in your head, and here in your heart.

The heart is the house of your soul it contains your emotions and personality, and it dictates how you react to the world around you.

The head is the house of your mind it contains your knowledge and memories, and dictates how your past shapes your identity.

If either of these two are missing your identity is shattered.

If the heart remains without the head your identity still remains on some level since you still react the same to the world around you but without your knowledge and memories as a foundation for those reactions they become meaningless to the person you have become because you could not understand those reactions.

If the head remains then your knowledge and memories remain the same but in the end knowledge is meaningless if it has no bearing on how you react to the world.

Of the two, however, it is easier to mend one's identity if the heart is what is lost. Since your memories and knowledge, your heabits, would exert dominance over your actions. To forever lose yourself with your heart would require an extreme act of will on the part of you or another.

It is harder on the psyche to rebuild itself from the heart up since knowledge and memory are the foundations upon which identity is built. A person is only meant to build their Identity once in a lifetime and even then they are aided by not being fully conscious of the process. A matured person would be forced to live with the knowledge that they had a life before their current existence and that knowledge would forever tarnish the way their heart reacted to the world. The sorrow of the loss could, in the end, destroy the person before their Identity could be rebuilt, whether or not that Identity was the same as their former one.